


The Fellatio-ship of the Rings

by lazarusthefirst



Series: Trope bingo [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Drinking, M/M, Skittles, Vegas, Woke Up Married, glorified PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Road trip to Vegas, accidental drunken marriage, and so forth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fellatio-ship of the Rings

**Author's Note:**

> The title is wholly, utterly, and gloriously a creation of a very tired [Alfie](http://unfortunatelyderek.tumblr.com/), who I'm probably going to marry for her puns alone.  
> This is barely deserving of the trope "woke up married" - that's the premise, but it's basically just porn.  
> The LOTR jokes were an afterthought

 

 

 

The Vegas trip had been planned for weeks. Stiles, Scott, Liam, and Mason, off on the long weekend of their lives before their final year of college started. Initially Malia and Kira were supposed to come with them - this was pre-hotel reservations, thankfully - but not long after they'd first suggested it (and also not long after Malia and Stiles, and Scott and Kira, had mutually decided to call it a day on their respective relationships), a very flustered and still-blushing-about-it Scott had walked in on both girls plus Lydia with very little clothes on getting busy in the shower. All poor Scott had wanted was a razor. Stiles had laughed for ten minutes and then requested a visual play-by-play, which Scott had stumbled through with much stammering but eventually gaining speed to the point where they both quickly said goodnight and rushed off to relive the story in the privacy of their own bedrooms.

Anyway, Lydia being Lydia decided to whisk the girls off to a private ski lodge in Vermont where there would probably be very little skiing done (Malia hated snow) but many other activities totally unrelated to skiing. Allison and Isaac were going to France, to visit her hunter friends, and since both had hinted at wanting to study abroad there for their final year, no one was very surprised that they were taking a whole month away.

'France would suit them,' Lydia said thoughtfully, once night after they Skyped the pair in Paris (both looking very brown and cultured). 'They look like they just escaped from fashion week.'

'And you're saying I don’t?' demanded Stiles. He'd been very on board with a Europe tour but Lydia suggested that maybe he try tackling going out of state - and not even that far - before going out of the country.

'That's more or less what I'm saying,' replied Lydia, throwing a cushion at him with one hand, and stroking Kira's hair with the other. Her head was in Lydia's lap, and she was almost dozing, with her feet on Malia's lap.

'I've been to France,' he murmured sleepily. 'They have really good bread.'

Stiles made a disappointed noise. 'Lydia! They have bread! Good bread no less. I wanna _go_.'

'We'll go somewhere better, Stiles,' Scott promised.

‘Yeah, you say that, but I feel like they’re going to Rivendell and we’re going to Mount Doom,’ Stiles grumbled.

‘You haven’t even heard any of the other suggestions,’ Scott pointed out. ‘I promise, it’ll be much better than the mountain of Doom, or whatever.’

In Stiles’s opinion, Las Vegas wasn’t a whole lot different to Mount Doom – certainty of bodily harm, small chance of emerging larger of coin than when he went in – but it became Plan A under the careful negotiation skills of Liam and Mason, their two hobbits. Stiles wasn't too sure how that happened. Those two were a year younger, still only 20, but fake IDs came with the college territory, and they made a solid campaign for Vegas while Stiles was sick one weekend and therefore not available to curtail these plans.

'I don't understand your aversion to Vegas,' Scott said reasonably, after he'd broken the news.

Stiles threw a piece of his muffin at him. 'Because I _cannot be trusted_ ,' he insisted. 'Scott, we can only do this if you _promise_ to keep me away from the slot machines, otherwise I'll ruin my life. Drinking, cards, sex shows, whatever, I'll do it all, but if I blow my savings on one damn fruit machine I'll hold you personally responsible and end our friendship.'

Scott took the threats seriously. He kept talking about how he was going to get them both dates, how they'd be so awesome at poker that they'd have adoring fans hanging of their arms. This urgency was compounded by the fact that Liam and Mason had gotten together about four weeks before they were due to leave, and were still firmly in the honeymoon phase during the entire damn road trip.

'You know, ordinarily, I don't find public displays of affection disgusting,' commented Stiles, as they watched Liam and Mason make out beside the pump at the gas station. 'But that is disgusting.'

'Its nice,' murmured Scott, digging around in his wallet for cash. 'Here, I'm gonna go pay. Want anything?'

'You know what I like,' Stiles replied distractedly, trying to juggle the gasoline pump and his jealous glare.

Scott did know what he liked. He came back out with Reese's and Gatorade especially for Stiles, even when Liam whined for snacks.

'Go get your own,' Scott told him, hopping into the passenger seat of the jeep.

'You got some for Stiles,' Liam protested, scrambling into the back.

'That's ‘cause Scott's my boy,' Stiles said proudly. 'Scotty, throw me a cup.'

Scott unwrapped one of the little foil peanut butter cups and tossed one at Stiles, who caught it deftly in his mouth.

'Nice,' they said in unison, bumping fists. Stiles turned the key in the ignition with a flourish, and announced that any penis caught outside of its owners underwear in _his_ jeep would be ejected from the vehicle, and he wouldn't slow down to make that happen. Liam and Mason blushed but didn't protest; after an incident last night, Stiles's warning was extremely justified.

Vegas was, predictably, awesome. They started drinking almost immediately after dropping off their bags; beers in the bar, wine at dinner, cocktails for dessert, and then on to the hard stuff in the casino. Stiles lost track of Liam and Mason when they progressed from happy drunk everyone-is-my-best-friend to half-blind, clutching, grabby, barely-coherent mess of emotions drunk. He remembered laughing a lot, stumbling through the streets with Scott on his arm. Really, they were too old for that kind of behaviour, but, when in Rome - and the Romans were certainly partying hard.

The lights and noise were intense, and everything smelled like something amazing or debauched. It was like being in the worlds most intense outdoor club.

More than anything, though, he was aware of Scott, who was just as drunk as he was - at least, they'd matched each other drink for drink in a childish competitiveness they'd clung to all their lives - but was infinitely more sensible in all things, and made sure Stiles didn't do something notably more stupid than standard drunken shenanigans, like buying a live animal, or getting a tattoo (Stiles had actually already done that while drunk during spring break, an although he quite liked the small silhouetted dinosaur on his left buttcheek, Scott had vowed to avoid tattoo parlors at all times after the moaning Stiles did about not being able to sit down for a week).

Overall, their first night was a long one and a great one. From the photos discovered later on Stiles's phone, they had a lot of fun, and met many an interesting person. Online debit card statements indicated they'd eaten at four different establishments, and had many a drink in many a bar. But that was about as detailed an account as either of them could manage the next morning.

Stiles woke up on the couch, Scott on the floor. Their beds were mussed, and pushed together so they were like one king sized bed, but they clearly hadn't slept in them. And Stiles felt like grade A premium fresh road kill.

'Oh my god,' he whispered. Scott was smacking his lips slowly, like they were stuck together. Stiles felt similar, and there was a foul taste in his mouth; clearly he'd been smoking.

They lay there for a significant amount of time; Stiles was genuinely afraid to move in case the hangover was worse than it felt. Moving could be catastrophic. He brain might fall out his butt.

'Time's'it?' mumbled Scott, face sounding like it was pressed to the carpet.

'D'no,' slurred Stiles, mouth dry as dust. 'Need water.'

Scott, his valiant champion, began to move. Stiles felt like he needed to relearn motor functions all over again, and was more than impressed by Scott's update from horizontal to vertical in under six minutes.

Another half hour saw them both in a sitting position, taking turns to sip from a lone bottle of water from the mini fridge. Scott had pounded on the wall, and received an answering knock from Liam, indicating that they were alive but not yet capable of speech or movement.

'I think that was a lot of fun,' remarked Stiles, wiping a dribble of water from his chin. 'I mean, I smell like a public toilet but I'm kind of ok about it?'

'I know what you mean,' Scott admitted, rubbing his head. 'I mean, I can't actually remember anything, but I do know that I enjoyed myself. Like, a lot. And I think,' he sniffed his fingers delicately. 'I don't know, I might have been with someone?'

'You might have just jerked off,' stiles suggested, taking another tentative drink. 'I think I did anyways, cause, you know.' He wiggled his fingers, shrugging.

Scott nodded, watching Stiles's fingers distractedly.

'Hey, when did you buy a ring?' he asked, indicating Stiles's hand. Stiles passed him the water as he examined the small silver band around the ring finger of his left hand.

'Huh,' he said, interested, and trying to resist the urge to make a “my precious” joke. 'I don't know. But, I mean, I've come home with weirder. Remember that signpost that said, "petitions have more impact than you think"?'

'Yeah, the nail on the back scraped my head,' Scott chuckled, wincing at the movement as he raised the bottle to take a drink. Stiles watched him, feeling a strange tightening in his stomach as a glint of silver caught his eye.

'Hey, you too,' Stiles said slowly, pointing. 'You got a ring too.'

Scott paused mid-sip, eyes slanting to the hand holding the bottle. He lowered it slowly, staring at the ring.

'I do,' he confirmed. There was a heavy silence in the room, settling like cold snow on their shoulders.

'Imagine if...' Stiles began, half-laughing, but trailing off into something approaching horror.

'Stiles?' Scott said, sounding a little nauseous. 'You don't think...?'

'No,' said Stiles quickly. 'No, surely not. Definitely not.'

'Yeah, definitely not,' agreed Scott. Neither of them had taken off the rings, though Stiles was fiddling with his.

'Its too cliche,' Stiles pointed out, reasonably. 'Even for us.'

'Right,' agreed Scott. 'I mean, I know we're close and all, but we'd never - I mean, we couldn’t, could we?'

Stiles shrugged. 'Its Vegas,' he admitted. 'Remember that guy Jackson knew who married a goat?'

Scott bit his lip. 'I'm sure there's an explanation,' he said slowly. 'And we just can't remember right now. Hang on, I'll check my phone. Maybe there are pictures.'

Scott went to go retrieve his phone from his jeans, moving like an old man, while Stiles fiddled uncomfortably with the ring. It was unsettling at how fine he felt about the presence of the ring. He never normally wore jewelry, but it didn't itch and it was light enough not to feel out of place, and had already absorbed his body heat so he couldn't even feel it.

'Well, these don't help,' Scott said, scrolling through his phone. 'Blurred, too dark, or too bright. Your phone probably isn't much better.'

'Check it anyways,' Stiles said, sliding the band up and down his finger. He slipped it off, wondering if it was sterling silver, and examined the inside of the ring.

'Uh, Scott...'

'Hey, your phone is better,' Scott said brightly. 'Stiles, these photos are awesome, man. Mostly selfies, but you got a great one of the fountain display.'

'Scott,' Stiles began again, staring at the ring.

'Nothing about rings or jewelry stores though,' Scott continued. 'Maybe we found them? Oh hold on, here's more.'

He fell silent, and as Stiles lifted his head to look at him, he saw Scott looking at him with a heavy, uncertain expression.

'This one's pretty interesting,' he said, voice slightly hoarse. He tossed the phone, and Stiles caught it.

'Better check the inside of your ring while you're at it,' Stiles murmured, mouth dropping open as he took in the photo of him and Scott, smiling drunkenly with their arms around each other, looking blissfully happy, a bemused priest standing to their left. A bower of flowers decorated the archway above their heads.

'That’s an altar,' stiles commented, frozen. 'And that’s - that's a priest.'

'And this is your name engraved on the inside of my ring,' Scott said, blankly. 'With mine. Mine and yours. Together. On a ring. "Scott & Stiles". And the date. Um.'

Stiles could only gape.

' _How_?' He whispered. 'How did we think this was a good idea? This isn't drunk behaviour, this is beyond any of the shit we ever pulled. Were we on drugs?'

Scott was shaking his head, but he didn't look too disturbed. More...amazed.

Before they could discuss it further - or possibly freak out - there was a knock on the door.

'Let us in, losers,' Liam's voice floated through. 'We're going for breakfast.'

'Let them in,' Stiles said quickly, in response to Scott's panicked glance. 'But _say nothing._ And take off the ring!'

He shoved his own into his pocket as Scott unlocked the door, admitting two very sorry looking boyfriends.

'This is grim,' commented Mason, looking around their trashed room. 'I mean, the room, and my head. And you two look worse than we do.'

'Yeah, what gives?' Liam asked, frowning between the two guilty faces. 'You guys sounded like you were having a _great_ time last night.'

Stiles looked from one to the other, panic fluttering in his stomach. 'What?'

'Did they slip out already?' asked Mason, looking around curiously. He shook his head. 'I gotta say, I'm disappointed. All this time you spent giving out to Liam and I for being loud, and then you go breaking down walls last night. We should have complained.'

'Well we didn't have much of a leg to stand on there either,' Liam pointed out softly, looking embarrassed but happy about it, while Stiles and Scott quietly went to pieces.

'We should get breakfast,' Stiles managed faintly.

'Duh, that's what we're here for,' Liam said. 'I want eggs. And sausage. Scott, you want sausage?'

'I think I need to lie down,' Scott said weakly, one hand outstretched to catch the back of his chair.

'Sounds like you spent all night on your back,' Mason smirked, and Liam giggled behind his back. Liam would never sass Scott directly, even at his weakest, but Mason was dangerous for jibes even on an ordinary day.

'Maybe he'd better stay here,' hedged Stiles. 'In case he throws up. We could meet you guys in the afternoon?'

Liam and Mason protested good-naturedly, but finally left them to it, after extracting promises of drinks and swims later. Stiles would have agreed to anything that didn't involve a chapel.

'We got married,' Scott said, leaning back against the door once they'd gone.

'Yeah,' agreed Stiles, slightly in awe at just how badly they'd fucked up. This would require a _lawyer._ At the very least, a whole lot of explaining to official people.

'Hey, does this mean you _have_ to help me with my taxes now?'

Stiles snorted. 'Shut up,' he said. 'I already help you with your taxes.'

'Yeah, but you complain about it,' Scott pointed out.

'They’re taxes. You're allowed to complain.'

They rattled around the room for a while, half trying to clean, straightening up every now and then with another marriage-related perk, to cheer themselves up.

'Does this mean your money is mine now? _Sweet_ , you make so much more than I do.'

'I mean, we already live together, so at least we've got that sorted.'

'Are dowries still a thing?'

'Do I get joint custody of the jeep?'

'Do I get healthcare discounts cause we're technically related now?'

'My mom's gonna be so mad so missed the ceremony. Maybe she can help us pick out china patterns. Or whatever married couples buy together.'

By the time the room was looking in a more orderly condition, they were feeling brightly - if naively - optimistic about their situation. This probably happened all the time, Stiles reasoned with himself. There was probably a building you could go to, or a form you could fill out. "Accidentally got married while drunk in Vegas". It was probably tax deductible at this stage.

Still, he found himself playing with the ring in his pocket. He left it on the sink when he went to shower and actually put it on without thinking when he was getting dressed.

'Dude,' Scott said, seeing it. 'You can't go out wearing that.'

'What? Oh.' Stiles realized belatedly that he was in fact wearing his _wedding ring._ 'Yeah, right.'

That caused a bit of tension in the room; Stiles wondered if Scott was remembering what Mason had said.

'So uh, Mason said some things,' Scott said, and Stiles winced. He'd spent a while examining his body in the mirror and found a grand total of four bruises that _might_ be hickies but that Stiles was choosing to believe were in fact bruises. Everyone got bruises on their collarbone, right?

'Yeah,' hedged Stiles. 'About that. I mean, considering we're _married_ , like, whatever we did or didn't do - I mean, we got _married.'_

'Yeah!' agreed Scott, with no small relief. 'It was probably, like, in the heat of the moment. And we were totally drunk.'

' _So_ drunk,' enthused Stiles.

There was a brief pause.

'Probably shouldn't do it again though,' Stiles added.

'Yeah,' Scott said. Did he sound reluctant?

There was another pause as they both chewed this over.

'We clearly liked it,' Stiles offered, speculatively, fiddling with his ring again. 'I mean, Mason might have been kidding, but why would he if he thought we were with - um, other people?'

'I guess,' said Scott slowly, and Stiles worried that he'd gone too far, even though he wasn't entirely sure where he was even going.

'Honestly, I guess it was bound to happen?' Scott said, spreading his hands. Stiles's heart jumped at Scott's resigned tone. 'I mean, we're so close. So I suppose it's not totally unexpected?'

'Yeah, right,' Stiles agreed. He was getting a little jumpy, so he stood up to wander, and shake out his limbs.

'There’s nothing wrong with that,' continued Scott, and there was definitely a defensive note in his voice now.

'No way,' snorted Stiles, still tramping around the room. 'I bet we were awesome, too. I bet Mason was so jealous.'

Scott laughed. He had one hand in his pockets and Stiles knew he was playing with his ring too. 'Definitely. Pity we can't remember any of it. I bet it was...'

He trailed off, biting his lip just momentarily, but enough for Stiles's stomach to flip.

'Cant remember anything, huh?' asked Stiles softly, pausing briefly in his pacing to glance over at Scott, to gauge his reaction. The clock above his head said it was still reasonably breakfast time.

Scott met his gaze. 'Well,' he said, slowly. 'Maybe _some_ things.' His eyes drifted down Stiles's body almost unconsciously, and Stiles finally allowed himself to think about how wrung out he'd felt that morning, how _fucked_ out, and how those bruises were definitely hickies, and how he smelled come on his fingers and felt it between his thighs. Scott, judging by the way his gaze was darkening, was having similar thoughts.

Stiles scratched his belly absentmindedly, the way that made his shirt slide up slightly, exposing his treasure trail, just to see, just to _see._ And Scott saw. He swallowed, and shifted his position slightly where he was leaning back against the wall.

'What do you remember?' asked Stiles quietly, keeping his eyes on Scott, letting his fingers play around across his belly.

Scott's eyes were openly fucking Stiles now; Stiles had never seen Scott look at anyone like that before, let alone him. It was getting him hot, undeniably so. He'd probably never look at Scott the same way again, but right now he was feeling like that might be acceptable.

'You,' Scott said, voice low. 'Doing that...that thing you do. When you like someone. When you wanna fuck someone.'

Stiles glanced up at him from under his eyelashes. 'What's that?' he asked, innocently. He began to trail his way over to Scott; he couldn't help it. It was magnetic, he realized. How had he ever resisted this before?

Scott smirked, watching him, waiting for him.

'You know,' he said, gesturing to his own mouth. 'That thing with your lips.'

'Hmm? Oh, this thing?' Stiles let his tongue dart out, licking his bottom lip quickly before catching the lip between his teeth, tugging it back slightly. Scott stiffened, and pushed himself off the wall.

'That thing?' he asked, mouth falling open in a coy smile.

Scott took few very purposeful steps forward, eyes glinting. 'That's the one,' he muttered. Stiles moved to meet him, and Scott grabbed him by the belt loops, pulling their crotches together first before moving in to nose playfully at his mouth, his nose, his cheeks.

'Suppose it would be good to practise,' murmured Stiles, shivering as he felt Scott's breath tickle his skin. 'Seeing as how we are married now, and all.'

'No need to convince me,' Scott said, rubbing his crotch up against Stiles's and letting his fingers slide up to grip his hips.

Stiles put his hands on Scott's shoulders, letting himself feel the strong muscles under Scott's thin t-shirt, wondering what it would feel like if Scott used them for real, to pin him down and touch him everywhere.

'Good,' purred Stiles, letting his lips ghost across Scott's. Scott's breathing hitched.

A loud banging at the door made them both spring apart as though they'd been electrocuted.

'Get the fuck out here losers!' yelled Liam. 'There's free breakfast margaritas for the next twenty minutes at the place across the street. Let's GO!'

Stiles and Scott were both too erect or any kind of public appearance, this much was very, painfully clear.

'Liam, dude, I'm still really sick,' Scott called back, agitated. 'Give me a few hours?'

'Scott, _free margaritas_!' Liam protested. 'We all feel like shit, come on.'

Scott looked torn, but Stiles was back pestering him, nuzzling his neck and rubbing his body up against Scott's.

'Liam, seriously, I'm feeling really ... Really bad,' Scott called, voice almost trailing off as Stiles started sucking a hickey of his own into that sweet neck.

'Shit, he does sound kinda bad,' Mason said, doubtfully.

'I'm not well,' agreed Scott, eyes slipping shut as he tilted his head back for stiles.

'Still though, free booze,' Liam said, sounding annoyed. 'Where’s Stiles, he needs to weigh in on this.'

Stiles had had enough of the interruptions. He broke away with a growl and stormed over to the door wore Scott could even ask what he was up to.

Stiles wrenched open the door and poked his head out.

'Hi,' he said, cheerfully. 'So here's the story. Scott and I got tremendously drunk last, and ended up experiencing wedded bliss, which I believe you might have caught.' He stuck his hand out the door and wiggled his fingers; the ring was, of course, glinting away. 'Now,' he continued, as Liam and Mason's eyes widened comically, 'we're just about to get into what I hope will be a very vigorous round two, one that we can both actually remember in all it's glorious entirety, so if you don’t mind, I have a husband to fuck.'

He smiled brightly at them, and then slammed the door in their faces.

Scott was on him before he could even turn around. His mouth found that sweet spot on Stiles's neck, and his dick rubbed against hiss ass, making him moan. Liam and Mason were making very shocked noises outside, but beat it when they heard the pornstar noises Stiles was making.

Stiles turned around quickly and kissed Scott on the mouth before either of them could think too much about it. It was hot and messy but it quickly slowed as they both realised what they were doing. It felt so absurdly right to Stiles, so fucking perfect, that he wanted to relax and fall right into Scott, and his kiss, and never come up for air.

Scott's hands roamed over stiles, touching, exploring. Stiles's body trembled, impatient, wanting more. They kissed soft and sweet, exploring each other's mouths and relishing in the feel of each other, like it was their first good meal in years.

Scott was pulling on him, tugging him over to the bed. Stiles let Scott push him down on to it, and stretched out a hand to pull him down on top of him.

'Guess we know why we put the beds together,' Stiles murmured against Scott's mouth.

'Even drunk, you do have some pretty good ideas,' Scott agreed, laughing softly, thrusting his crotch down against stiles to make him shudder again.

'Oh god, you have good ideas too,' he moaned, arching up against Scott. 'This was such a good idea.'

'I remember you saying something like that last night,' Scott whispered, hand straying down to cup Stiles over his jeans. 'When I was inside you.' He pressed a kiss to Stiles's lips, and to the corner of his mouth. 'I can remember now, you know. When I had my fingers deep inside you. You were so tight, stiles. So perfect. You fucking whimpered and writhed and came so perfect, just for me.'

Stiles was making little helpless noises of desire, pinned under Scott's warm, firm body as he got a hand down his pants. He worked Stiles's cock expertly, just how Stiles liked it. Clearly the night before had been...instructive.

'Fuck, I want you inside me again,' Stiles moaned. 'I need it. I need all of you, Scott.'

Scott made a noise of arousal, biting gently on his collarbone.

'Say my name again,' he breathed, stroking him hard.

'Scott,' Stiles stuttered. 'Scott, please. I need your mouth. Oh god, please Scott.'

The fingers on his cock stilled, and then Scott was shuffling down on the bed, tugging Stiles's jeans down with him. Stiles wriggled around like a fish on a hook, beyond impatient, until Scott took him into his mouth and all was forgotten in a blinding rush of arousal and sensation. Tongue, lips, fingers, Scott gave him everything, working him hard and taking him apart until Stiles was gasping his name, sweaty and incoherent, and begging to be fucked.

'God,' he forced out, hoarse, half-rising to grab Scott's hair, but unable to make it the full way as Scott was apparently trying to suck his brain out through his dick. 'Please. God I need you, Scott.'

Scott's fingers had already been probing at his entrance, but the angle was wrong; now he got his strong shoulders under Stiles's legs and lifted, exposing his tender balls and hole. He fiddled around in his pocket until he found a tiny tube of -

'Is that lube?' Stiles asked, amazed.

Scott nodded, grinning. 'Found it this morning,' he said, pressing a kiss to Stiles's knee. 'That’s what tipped me off that we were up to, you know.'

'Shenanigans,' they both said, and laughed.

'Plus it's cherry flavour,' Scott added, popping the cap and slicking up his hand. 'We all know how much you like cherry, Stiles.'

Stiles bit his lip, as much for Scott as because he couldn't really manage anything else. He was still loosened up from last night, but he hissed at the cold and the shock of Scott sliding a finger in anyways. It was so unexpectedly welcome; though it felt a lot bigger than it had any right to, Stiles still wanted more. He wanted everything Scott could give him. His whole body felt on fire, and he needed Scott everywhere at once because he was going to _burn._

Scott slipped in a second finger, kissing Stiles's balls and making him whine. He was scissoring them slowly inside Stiles, holding him down with his other hand in case Stiles bucked right off the bed.

'Fuck, Scott,' Stiles begged ' just fuck me. Come on, I need it.  I need _you_. Scott. _Scott_ ,' he gasped, arching up as Scott teased him with a third finger.

'Only if you ask really nicely,' Scott said, lifting his head and smirking. Stiles tried to glare, but it probably just came off looking desperate.

'When did you get this mean?' Stiles complained, then gasped and yelped as Scott thrust his fingers in particularly hard. 'Ah, ok, I'm sorry! God, Scott, you - please fuck me.'

Stiles collapsed backwards as Scott withdrew his fingers, crawling back up his body to kiss him. One hand stayed behind, and Stiles could hear Scott slicking himself up with the lube.

'Say please,' Scott repeated, biting Stiles's lip.

'Please,' whimpered Stiles, trembling. Scott was lining himself up, pushing on Stiles's legs so they were bent further back and apart. Stiles thought he might split in two as he felt the hard head of Scott's cock press against his hole, impossibly huge. He welcomed it.

'Please what?' Scott was nosing along Stiles's jaw.

'Please fuck me, Scott. Please.' Stiles was almost blind with desire.

'Only for you, stiles,' Scott murmured, and suddenly Stiles was being stretched beyond anything he'd ever felt. His mouth dropped open in a silent O of not quite pain, but the most intense, overwhelming pleasure he'd ever experienced.

A tortured cry was dragged from his lips, and Scott kissed him through it as he bottomed out inside him. 'You're so good,' he murmured, holding Stiles like he might break, but also like he wanted to break him. 'I’ve wanted this so bad, stiles. You feel _amazing_.'

'Move or I’m getting a divorce,' gasped Stiles, scrabbling desperately at his back. Scott chuckled filthily, drawing back slightly before pushing back in, then again almost before Stiles's brain had registered the burn.

It was a case of wind him up and watch him go, with Scott. Some dim, faded part of Stiles's brain was amazed he'd held out for this long. Scott pounded him with something approaching beastial force, thrusts coming short and fast and hard enough to move them both up to the top of the bed. Stiles howled freely as Scott fucked him open, fingers clutching at his hair and his back, scraping down the skin to the point where it must have been painful for Scott, but it only spurred him on. It was like all their pent up sexual energy towards each other, which had gone largely unnoticed for most of their lives, was now being exercised in one wild, manic session.

Scrabbling around, Stiles found Scott's hand, the one with the ring, and barely had to tug at it for Scott to immediately get the intention. He twined their fingers together and pinned both their hands above Stiles's head, using the other for leverage under his ass as he thrust into him, momentum disintegrating as his muscles began to clench.

'Fuck, oh god,' Scott gasped, breathless with exertion. 'You're amazing.'

Stiles could only manage hoarse, broken cries, scraped out with every thrust, until finally Scott's snapped into him, hard enough to bruise, and stiles felt him shoot hot inside of him as he cried out a strangled version of Stiles's name. Scott dropped the hand from his ass and made a fist around Stiles's cock, using the momentum of his last, jerky thrusts to send Stiles sobbing over the edge too, come spurting white ribbons over Scott's clenched fist.

Their bodies rocked together through the aftershocks, their breathing jagged and way too fast, until they were able to ease their bodies apart gently. Neither of them had any desire to separate, however, and they lay pressed against one another, bodies hot and sticky, and kissed whatever skin they could find.

A while later, when their breathing had returned to something approaching normal, Stiles piped up from where his head was pillowed on Scott's chest.

'So, I don't think we're quite ready for monogrammed bath towels just yet,' he said, and grinned as Scott's chest vibrated with laughter underneath him.

'No,' he agreed, pressing a kiss to Stiles's head. 'As much as I like the ring, I do think we missed a few crucial steps in the relationship.'

'I knew you liked the rings,' said stiles, feeling smug for no reason. He ran his toes up and down Scott's leg and felt him shiver.

'Of course I did. You picked them out.'

Stiles looked up at him. 'I did?' he asked, baffled. 'Well, I don't remember that.'

Scott smiled. 'Don’t worry. I'll tell you everything I remember. In great detail.'

'You'd better,' said Stiles, snuggling back down. 'Hey, do you think we get newlyweds discounts here?'

Scott laughed. 'Well, maybe we can get Liam and Mason to buy us a wedding present. Something useful.'

'Are you suggesting a cock ring?' Stiles asked immediately, because it was something he'd always wanted to try.

Scott tightened his arms around him. 'God, I should have kissed you years ago,' he muttered. 'I saw an outfit in a sex store one time that you would have looked fucked amazing in. It was crotchless.' Scott almost sounded embarrassed.

Stiles kissed his chest, brain spinning. 'Never leave me,' he said, dazed.

'Til death do us part,' replied Scott, stroking his arm.

'Amen.'

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://coulsonszombies.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/coulsonsangels/), come say hi :)


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